


Under the Red Autumn Tree

by That_Rainbow_Writer



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Ernest and Esmè are platonic best friends, Ernest likes Edgar Allan Poe, Fluff, Gen, Please read the notes at the top for trigger warnings, School, School Fight, This takes place at Prufrock Prep probably, mentions of parent death, minor gore, playful banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Rainbow_Writer/pseuds/That_Rainbow_Writer
Summary: He was like some sort of cold mystery, ready to be read like an open book. Maybe she could crack the code. Esmè wanted to be friends with him and figure everything out.
Relationships: Ernest Denouement & Esmé Squalor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Under the Red Autumn Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello everyone! It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything and I sincerely apologize, so here, take this fanfic I created within a few weeks of writers block. I kept thinking about how Esmè and Ernest would probably in my headcanon be really good friends, so I present this. Sorry if they seem out of character to y’all. 
> 
> •••  
> Ernest is eleven years old 
> 
> Esmè is ten
> 
> ••• 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: 
> 
> Bullying 
> 
> Schoolyard Fight 
> 
> Minor Gore (a character gets a bloody nose) 
> 
> Mentions of parent death 
> 
> If you’re uncomfortable by any of this please leave immediately. If you’re not, you may continue.  
> ••• 
> 
> Thanks for the support everyone. I love you all! 
> 
> -That_Rainbow_Writer

The bell rang for their next period, and all the kids ran outside. It was their free time, and usually they all hung out in their usual groups. Dewey, Frank, and Bertrand were talking about their day. 

“Where’s E.?” Bertrand asked, slightly concerned. Ernest usually would be hanging out with his brothers near the entrance of the school so they could get to class as fast as possible before the next bell had rung. Ernest was very quiet in most periods except for Math, English, and occasionally History. 

“He’s okay Bert— I mean B., sorry...He decided to read a book for free period today. He’s gonna meet up with us ten minutes before free period ends I think.” Dewey reassured Bertrand, as Frank rubbed his temple slightly. He had gotten a small headache but it was no problem. Frank usually gets headaches and it’s mainly from Olaf’s crew...yelling and screaming musicals at the top of their lungs. Quoting Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”

“Will they ever stop screaming?” Frank muttered to himself, as he was watching the crowd run around. 

*** 

“They’re so loud...” Ernest quietly groaned, then continued reading. He was reading “The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe- an eccentric yet vague author of 19th century. He leaned back more against the tree, slightly slouching back more to where he was holding the book up in the air and the base of the tree his head was laying upon. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed a brunette woman- she was a bit shorter than him...he couldn’t really tell her height anyways. 

At first he thought it was B., but it was one of her friends. She wore a white shirt, sewed with a dark blue skirt that fell a quarter below knee-length, and brown belt. It looked slightly gothic. She looked at her other friends, a slight small smile. She turned her head, and thought she saw a boy looking at her- but he wasn’t at the moment. He was focused on his book. 

“Hey, I think I want to go talk to that boy over there K. If B. asks where I am I’m over near that oak tree!” Esmè giggled, and was about to run over to greet him- but K. caught her wrist. 

“E.! That’s D’s other brother! I’ve heard he’s a bit cold-shouldered from what F. told me...and often isn’t really the most talkative person.” Kit explained, and Esme’s eyes furrowed. She didn’t like how Kit was talking about him. He seemed interesting. He didn’t even look like he’d hurt a fly. Well- he probably could- she wasn’t too sure. 

“I see...not a talkative one, ah? Well I can maybe make him talk more. Also K., you know how you taught me the saying don’t judge a book by it’s cover?” Esmè asked. 

“Yes E., I do remember telling you that after you kept rambling to me about Anne from Anne of Green Gables having a not so fantastic dress.” Kit replied monotonously. She was tired of Esme’s rambling. 

“Well don’t judge a person based on what you heard about them.” Esmè said, then marched off towards the oak tree. From Ernest’s perspective she looked angry- almost as if he said something about her that didn’t sit right with either of them- he said nothing though. Immediately she sat down, noticing the leaves falling. They were red colored. 

“Uh, Hi!” Esmè started awkwardly. Usually she’d be very talkative and ramble about different things, but she seemed a bit quiet around Ernest. He had blonde hair, that was slightly curly like hers except she was brunette, and a pair of deep set gazed eyes of a greenish-blue. He wore a brown colored turtle neck and black pants, with beige socks and grayish-black slacks. 

“Hello...do you need something?” Ernest asked, looking up quizzically, then glanced down at his book. He seemed brooding. It was the girl he saw from earlier. He quietly put the paper bookmark he created on the page he was on and looked at her again. Esmè then sat down in front of him, a few inches away...and the two quietly sat there for a few seconds. Esmè broke the silence. 

“Well...not really no, I just wanted to talk to you.” She explained, glancing at the book he was reading, and holding in his left arm. He didn’t seem to hurt her just yet. 

“If you’re talking to me because it’s out of sympathy points because I’m sitting alone reading or you’re talking to me because your friends dared you to I’d personally suggest for you to go away.” Ernest slightly jabbed, and then there was silence between the two again. 

‘Yikes...someone must’ve hurt him.’ the brunette thought, wondering who did it. She tried to ignore it. He was like some sort of cold mystery, ready to be read like an open book. Maybe she could crack the code. Esmè wanted to be friends with him and figure everything out. 

***

“No one dared me to talk to you, and nor did I come over here to talk to you out of sympathy. You see...I can clearly tell we’re different by a few things- but you’re clearly a bit more introverted than I am. I’m a bit more of an extrovert.” She replied kindly, and Ernest nodded. He wasn’t really the type of person to respond often to these comments. He also seemed a bit bored. 

“You’re right, I am a introvert. However if needed be I’ll take the spotlight for my brother D. if he wants me to. Who are you anyway?” Ernest explained, then inquired. 

“I’m the most iconic fashionista in this school!” Esmè giggled, she loved fashion and everything about it. She thought there were so many pretty dresses and skirts in different catalogs...she always wanted to wear the most highly expensive ones. 

“Oh wow...I’m meeting a goddess! How lovely.” Ernest joked, catching a leaf that fell from the tree. He observed the leaf’s bold red color. He really liked looking at it. Sure- it was a leaf that you could easily crumple up and tear but he thought it was a nice thing in nature. He eventually crunched it up in a few moments, and placed the leaf bits onto the ground. 

“You think I’m a goddess?!” Esmè exclaimed, clearly surprised by the blonde’s statement. Ernest was trying his best not to crack a smile or giggle at her response. “Well...sort of? Not really.” “You’re not joking?” 

“No I am! I’m sorry miss, you really are very nice looking, that joke was a bit rude.” Ernest apologized, and Esmè smiled. At least he could actually apologize unlike some people she knew. “I forgive you...? Wait what is your name?” 

“My name is...Ernest Denoument. Though in full my name is Ernest Alexandre Denoument.” Ernest introduced himself, holding his hand out for a hand shake. Esmè took his hand, and they shook hands. His grip was firm, and hand had some calluses and was a bit cold- she assumed it was because of the weather. 

“Nice to meet you Ernest, I’m Esmè...Esmè Gigi Genevieve Adrien.” She replied, and Ernest let go from the handshake. 

“Pleasure to meet you Miss Esmè!” Ernest grinned, and then immediately started looking for his book satchel. It was a dark brown color. He picked it up and dusted it off. 

***

“What book are you reading?” Esmè started, trying to bring up a casual topic. Ernest, after dusting off his satchel, opened it up and looking at the book title once more he then memorized it and put it in his satchel, closing it tightly. 

“You see books sometimes bore me to death and B. is trying to get me to read more of them...she wants me to read Anna Karenina so badly I don’t understand why it’s so interesting or what it’s about.” Esmè explained, and Ernest chuckled lightly. He found this amusing as he too, at first didn’t really like reading, but Dewey got him more into it. 

“ _The Masque of Red Death_ by Edgar Allan Poe is what I’m reading. It’s about a Prince hiding in his abbey- monastery if you will...trying to get away from the deadly plague known as The Red Death. It’s pretty nice, a simple short story. Also I see you don’t like reading that much...I used to be that way as well, until D. got me into reading more.” Ernest chatted, a small grin slowly appeared on her face after he explained everything. 

“Oh okay, well that’s a bit boring but at the same time seems interesting. Hmm...to slightly change topics- Do you have a favorite musical genre?” Esmè queried. She wanted to get to know Ernest better, and Ernest thought for a moment. 

“Hmm...now that I think about it, I really like classical music, some country, and occasional swing.” Ernest replied, and then asked the same question to her. He wanted to know what music she liked too. 

“So...do you have a favorite composer by any chance, since you’re into classical music?” Esmè questioned. She thought maybe she could understand his personality a bit more considering his music taste. 

“Aha! No one _dares_ to ask me who my favorite musician is! _You want to know know why?_ ” He remarked, crossing his arms and slightly lounging back against the tree once more. 

“Why does no one ask you Ernest? You’re probably interested in someone so easy to name off the top of my head. I’m going to guess Mozart!” Esmè retorted jokingly, leading Ernest to raise his left eyebrow slightly in shock- then a sudden smirk slowly appearing on his face, he didn’t think Esmè would even name anyone. 

***

“I— I don’t even like Mozart! What gave you the impression I liked his music?“ Ernest started, but he couldn’t help but laugh. He started laughing. It amused him that she’d name Mozart right off the top of her head. His laugh was actually genuine. It was slightly bold sounding, but a laugh you’d be willing to hear whenever you could. It could be oddly nice to hear sometimes. She started giggling a bit too. 

“Well I’m sorry! Maybe it was your sense of fashion that gave me the vibes.” She replied sarcastically. 

“No I think from your makeup I can tell you like Verdi!” Ernest retorted, and Esmè gasped covering her mouth as the two laughed a bit more. 

“Ernest please, this man doesn’t even exist!” Esmè exclaimed sassily. 

“Esmè...Esmè no! Let me explain.” The green eyed man started, catching his breath and looking at her, his eyes steady yet cheerful. His ribs hurt. She actually made him laugh a bit. He hadn’t laughed in a few weeks. “I like a lot of different composers. You could ask me on a Monday my favorite composer and I’d say Tchaikovsky...but let’s say Thursday you ask again, I’d say Handel...or Chopin, even.” He explained. 

“Ohh I see...that’s interesting E. I really like the musical composition of Swan Lake or The Sugar Plum Fairy!” Esmè beamed. Her hazel-slightly amber eyes were glistening with joy. She pictured the soundtrack playing in her head vividly, a tune she loved dancing to in dance classes after school.

“Hm...those are very nice compositions. In fact, those are both by Tchaikovsky.” Ernest added, and Esmè adjusted her cardigan a bit. 

*** 

“Ernest...I’m so sorry if this question makes you uncomfortable but at the beginning of our conversation...why were you so brooding? What happened?” She asked gently. Ernest looked at his shoes, slightly hugging his knees now and wondering what to say. He couldn’t just tell her. He took a deep breath, and was ready to speak. 

He usually would never talk about this sort of thing, it made him feel weird and not really closed off like he wanted to be. He couldn’t push her away because he had already let her in. She was getting to see his true colors. He couldn’t lie at this point. There was no turning back for him. 

“You promise you won’t tell anyone Esmè?” Ernest asked, adjusting his sitting position a bit. 

“I swear on it.” Esmè replied, and the two pinky swore. 

*** 

“Well few years ago, I was maybe nine...one time during recess O. was picking on my brother, D. he’s the youngest of the Denoument triplets, I’m the eldest, and F. is the middle child.” Ernest began, he balled his left hand into a fist...the grip was tight. 

“He kept going on about how our parents had died in the fire when we were four, and how it was so...I don’t even know if I want to say what he said. Heh...y’know something in me made me get in between Dewey and O. Right as O. was about to push my brother down into a puddle, I grabbed his hand, smacking it to the side forcefully...then we began to fight.” Ernest continued. 

“Eventually Frank and Fernald pulled us off of each other after a good ten minutes. It ended with O. getting an awful bloody nose and a few bruises on my face. Dewey held onto me sobbing. Olaf lied and said I was bullying him and since I had never bothered to talk with him. He’s a disgusting man and needs to learn that superiority complexes are egotistical and idiotic. I push people away because I don’t want to get hurt again, and I’m scared they think I’m a bully.” Ernest finished, shaking his head trying to stop the tears. 

“ _I just wanted to help Dewey!_ ” Ernest cried frustrated, his voice slightly cracked. 

Esmè immediately frowned, the pain she noticed in his voice. It was cracking. He was clearly hurt by everything. She wondered if he was comfortable with being hugged or a pat on the shoulder. 

“Can I hug you or something?” She asked, and Ernest affirmed it, slightly hesitating. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it in a tight but nice way. 

“I’m so sorry Ernest. I believe you. I know O. is kind of a meanie. It was great you defended your brother.” Esmè replied, and Ernest wiped his tears with a small tissue, smiling at her. 

“Thank you...Esmè.” Ernest stated, and then he reliazed the time. He promised his brothers he’d be back after ten minutes. He stood up, and helped Esmè up. They both looked at the school from the oak tree, and she smiled gleefully. 

“We should hang out more often...I guess you have to leave?” She asked, and Ernest sighed with a nod. He wished recess could last an hour than just simply thirty minutes. 

“I told my brothers I’d be back at the ten minute mark. Thank you for this chat Esmè. What class do you have next?” He asked, and Esmè thought for a moment. 

“English.” She replied, and Ernest immediately freezed, looking at her wide eyed. He was in a smiley but shocked state. 

“We have the same English class...I guess I’ll see you in there then?” He asked, and Esmè grinned. 

“Absolutely.” Esmè replied, and the two went their seperate ways, back to their usual seperate cliques. He’d see her again soon, and so would she.


End file.
